Straight Shot
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: The last person who should get their hands on a firearm is The Undertaker. Rated T for course language and implied slash/incest.


**Straight Shot  
**

My brother is a traitor. A low-down, good-for-nothing snake in the grass. And if he thinks I'm going to let him get away with this, then I'm going to enjoy knocking some sense into him.

The foliage around me is a thick, nearly impenetrable mass. Much like Kane's brain. He has no idea how much this burns me up. No pun intended. Actually, I'm pretty sure he knows exactly how I feel. Kane purposely, _willfully_ disobeyed me. A direct violation of my trust. That's what this is.

I knew better. I fucking _knew_ better than to let this happen. It never fails. The moment I turn my back on him… The minute I let my guard down, he lets me have it. Right between the eyes. I should've seen this coming. Especially since it's the same thing I would've done.

Not to Kane, though. Not now. I'm what you might call a changed man. The power of love has transformed me into a kinder, gentler version of my former self. I now give people a full sixty seconds to explain themselves before I introduce my boot to their face.

A muffled footfall nearby sharpens my focus. I've got a job to do and I'll be damned if I'm going to let my louse of a brother screw it up. Gingerly, I part the branches in front of my face. Less than then feet away stands a member of the opposing team. Triple H's team. The yellow bandana around the player's arm marks him as such. Yellow like the streak running down that sledgehammer-swinging coward's back.

I raise my gun, careful not to give away my position. It rubs me the wrong way to shoot the bastard in the back. If I had my way, I wouldn't be out in this wilderness in the first place.

Kane and I had made plans to take in a horror movie marathon at the local Cineplex. Followed, no doubt, by some serious "alone time". There's something about gallons of fake blood gallons spurting from fake arteries that makes Kane _extra_ attentive. Some would be horrified. Not me. I'll take every opportunity I can get.

Again, that man has led me away from my objective. No matter how many times I try to banish him from my thoughts, he somehow manages to pop up. Like that demonic doll from _The Twilight Zone_.

"Hey, Kane!" shouts my opponent. "What are you…" His words are cut off by three sharp pops. "_What the hell?_"

Kane finally steps into view, wearing a sleeveless camouflage-patterned shirt with matching pants. And his mask, of course. If possible, he looks even more imposing than usual. Maybe it's the loaded paintball gun in his hand. "Game over, Christian," rumbles Kane. "Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars."

Did I mention my brother has a sense of humor?

Christian stomped his feet. "Kane, you're on _my_ team! You're supposed to be guarding _our_ flag!" With all his hollering, it won't take long for members of either team to come running. Giving away his position as well as mine. This is definitely not part of my game plan.

"You're out of the game," Kane informs him. "Now shut up and walk away before you get a shot in the sac." He waves his gun in the younger man's crotch area. Smartly, Christian covers himself with his hands and runs away.

His departure isn't nearly as silent as I would like. I may have to take up a different post soon. It makes no real difference to me. I'm more of a seeker than a hider anyway.

Kane turns around in a circle. "You can come out now," he calls. "I know you're here. You crazy little woodpecker."

I raise my gun and take aim. I'll show him a woodpecker alright.

All of a sudden, he's looking right at me. Practically glaring at the end of my gun. "And if you shoot me, I _will_ ram that gun up your ass!"

I hesitate. As angry as I am at Kane siding with Hunter's team, I am also curious. If what Christian said is true, then Kane has abandoned his post. Leaving it open to be captured by my team. There's a trick going on here. I just need to figure out which end of the gun I'm going to wind up on.

"Mark, quit wasting time. The path is not going to stay clear forever."

Against my better judgment, I step out into the open. My gun is still leveled at my brother. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't pop you one right here, right now."

Kane doesn't so much as raise his weapon to defend himself. He's an open target. An easy kill. "Because you love me," he says.

I ought to pop the bastard on principle. "You're on Hunter's team. That overshadows any feelings I may have _had_ for you."

Throwing up his hands, he grumbles, "I got picked, numb nuts!"

"You could've declined."

He takes a step forward, notices I haven't lowered my piece, and decides against approaching me. "Since when have McMahon's 'team building exercises' been voluntary? If you had gotten picked…"

"I woulda pissed in the jackass' canteen and walked off the reservation. Speaking of reservations, we had some. Remember?"

Kane's laugh is so unkind, it borders on malicious. "You lose your dick in the woods, Markie?"

"Don't call me Markie."

"Don't be a pussy," Kane counters. He folds his massive arms across his equally impressive chest. His gun is pointed way off yonder. While his body language doesn't communicate a desire to shoot me, he's not exactly inviting me to Sunday brunch. "You've failed to notice that I'm not wearing Hunter's colors." His arms, indeed, are bare. "I'm more of a freelancer at the moment. I figure this could go one of two ways. I clear a path for you to the flag, you capture it, game over. Option two: Fuck the flag. There are plenty of woods out here for us to get 'lost' in. We take each other out of the game and…"

I suppose I'm to draw my own conclusions. "You honestly expect me to believe that you joined Hunter's team just to screw him over and get all natural with me?"

"Some might argue with the 'natural' part, but that is the _Outdoor Romance for Dummies_ version of the plan. You with me or what?"

Basically, what this all boils down to is some adult fun in the sun. My brother has always been a simple man. His necessities appear to be food, shelter, and me. "Lead on, McDuff."

"Wow," chuckles Kane. "You been dipping into the literature in your spare time, Markie?" He heads down a trail between the trees. "Very impressive. That big brain goes well with your fat head."

With his back to me, I'm tempted to take him out. "You call me Markie again and I'm tying you to a tree."

Glancing back over his shoulder, his lips curve into that playful, seductive smile reserved only for me. How could I have ever doubted him? "You promise, Markie?"

Fuck the flag…

**END**


End file.
